Silk and Secrets(4)

"I have heard nothing." It had been several years since Ross had seen Jean Cameron, but he had always been fond of her, and had been grateful that she hadn't blamed him for Juliet's defection. He frowned as he studied her drawn face, seeing that her usual vagueness had been replaced by the steely determination that was more characteristic of her formidable daughter. "Something has happened to Ian?"

"I'm afraid so. He has always had the greatest talent for getting into trouble, except for Juliet. Letting her run wild with her brothers was the worst mistake of my life." She tried to smile, but her hands clenched on her son-in-law's. "As you know, Ian has been stationed in India. Early last year he was sent on a mission to Bokhara, to ask for the release of all the Russian slaves being held there. The idea was to remove any provocation that would give Russia an excuse to invade the khanate, since Britain prefers Bokhara to remain independent. The amir not only refused the request but took Ian prisoner." She gave the ambassador a scathing glance. "Now the government that sent my son there has abandoned him."

Canning regarded her sorrowfully. "If anything could be done, we would do it. But, Lady Cameron, you must accept that it is too late. The Amir of Bokhara is dangerous and unpredictable and he dislikes Europeans. Your son was a brave man. He knew the risks when he went there." The words were an epitaph.

Lady Cameron had opened her mouth to speak, when a new group of visitors was admitted, this time richly dressed Ottoman officials. After a quick glance at the newcomers, Canning said to Ross, "I must leave now, but if you and Lady Cameron would like to speak further, you may use that room across the hall."

She said earnestly, "Yes, Ross, we must talk."

As Ross followed his mother-in-law to the small reception room Canning had indicated, the faint but reliable voice at the back of his mind told him that trouble was brewing.

As soon as the door closed, Jean Cameron began pacing back and forth restlessly. "It is such a relief to see a friendly face." She smiled without humor. "Canning and his people are polite, but they all dismiss me as a foolish, unbalanced woman who won't face facts. They shudder whenever I come around."

"They are uncomfortable knowing that they are helpless," Ross said quietly. "Canning seems to think that the evidence of Ian's death is very strong."

"But he isn't dead! I would feel it if he were gone." She gave Ross an oblique glance. "It's maternal instinct, you know. Even though I miss Juliet dreadfully, I do not worry about her, for I know that she is well, at least physically. Ian is not well, but he is not dead—I am absolutely certain of that."

He hesitated for a moment before saying carefully, "Considering how prisoners are treated in that part of the world, Ian would have been lucky to be killed quickly."

She glared at her son-in-law. "That is easy for you to say. Do you even care whether Ian is dead or alive?"

"Today I learned that my own brother is dead." Briefly Ross closed his eyes, thinking of his red-haired brother-in-law. Ian was only a year older than Juliet, as exuberant and full of life as his sister. Opening his eyes, Ross said bleakly, "I do not regret his loss half as much as I do Ian's."

His quiet statement shocked Lady Cameron out of her anger. Drawing a weary hand across her forehead, she said, "That's right, Sir Stratford said that you were doubly unfortunate today. I'm sorry, Ross, I should not have lashed out at you." Being knowledgeable about the Carlisle family, she went on, "Did Kilburn manage to father a son on his new wife?"

When Ross shook his head, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So you are going to become a duke. I suppose I should start calling you Kilburn."

"You've known me too long to become formal now." His mouth twisted, "Being a future duke is a dashed dull business. I'll be sailing for London in a few days."

"I envy your mother. A pity my own children haven't the sense to stay safe at home in Scotland, but they're scattered to the four winds. That's why I'm here alone." Lady Cameron sat on the sofa, spreading her full skirts gracefully.

Returning to the subject closest to her heart, she said, "Sir Stratford spoke as if there is clear proof that Ian is dead, but that is not the case. You know what this part of the world is like. It's over two thousand miles from Constantinople to Bokhara, and there is no reliable method of learning what happens there. The closest British consul is Sir John McNeill in Teheran, which is still a thousand miles away."

"What reports have McNeill and Canning heard?"

She gave an eloquent shrug. "That there have been no English visitors to Bokhara for years, that there is an Englishman there who converted to Islam and is now chief of the amir's artillery, that an Englishman arrived last year and was shot, or beheaded, or imprisoned in the amir's Black Well. It is also said that the amir has a dozen European prisoners, but they are all Russians. So many rumors—and they add up to nothing. The Persian merchant I spoke with this morning was in Bokhara recently and he swears that he heard nothing to indicate that a European has been executed. However, the embassy prefers to believe that Ian is dead because that is easier for them."